


Undercover

by YlvaUllsdotter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester - Freeform, Dean x Reader, F/M, Fanfiction, Fluff, One-Shot, Reader Insert, SO MUCH FLUFF, SPN - Freeform, Sam Winchester - Freeform, Sorry Not Sorry, Supernatural - Freeform, sanasfluffinesschallenge, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 22:12:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14657265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YlvaUllsdotter/pseuds/YlvaUllsdotter
Summary: You and Dean have to go undercover at a fancy cocktail party to recover a magical artifact. You have to wear a dress. Dean apparently approves.For some reason that makes you angry.





	Undercover

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [@deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester](http://deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester.tumblr.com/)’s Fluffiness Challenge. Fluff is so hard for me because it’s something I’ve never had in my life, but my goal with writing challenges on Tumblr is to challenge myself to do things that I find difficult. My prompt is bolded in the text, and I am genuinely amazed that I managed to write a whole fic short as it is without any smut. 
> 
> I apologize for nothing.

I knew I was fidgeting more than most people in the room, and I prayed that no one would notice before we could get the artifact and get out of there. When Sam had dropped off the box in my motel room, I was already in a bad mood just knowing this was coming. I hated going undercover, but having to go undercover at a fancy cocktail party was worse. The absolute worst part though was having to wear a dress. 

Sam had actually picked out a pretty nice dress, it was my size and the cut was modest enough for my taste, but it was much too tight and I felt like a sea lion dressed up in a tutu. 

Trying to adjust the hem for the millionth time, I scanned the party guests to get a glimpse of Dean. We had gone in with a general idea of where the artifact was kept but had been unable to get our hands on any current blueprints of the building so we had to go in blind and improvise. Yet another reason to hate this case.

By an uncommon stroke of good luck, I spotted one of the waiters slipping through a door that was cleverly concealed unless you knew it was there, just before I caught sight of Dean. Feeling like my face was about to crack from the fake smile I had managed to muster all evening, I made my way through the throng of people towards him.

Of course, he was at the bar calmly sipping a tumbler of what I assumed was whiskey. He spotted me when I was still halfway across the room from him and his face took on a slightly dazed expression. I felt a blush start to creep up my cheeks and viciously beat it back by sheer willpower. No way would I let Dean Winchester see me blush because he was looking at me in that way with those stupid green eyes.

I slipped between some guy in a suit and a waiter, almost making the poor guy drop his tray of drinks, and gestured to the bartender for a drink, taking the flute of champagne from him and chugging half of the sparkling contents before I turned to Dean. 

The way he flinched back, I figured the scowl on my face was conveying my feelings eloquently enough. Glancing around quickly to make sure no one would overhear, I carefully stepped closer and hissed at him through clenched teeth.

**“Take a picture, it’ll last longer!”**

Dean winced and, to my immense satisfaction, blushed bright red. He tried to hide his embarrassment at being caught staring by turning away and finishing his drink, but unfortunately for him, I saw.

In a few short, whispered sentences I let him know about the concealed door, and we agreed on a provisional plan. Once we were on the other side of the door, all thoughts of Dean blushing at the sight of me were banished as we focused on the case.

By the time we made it back to the motel, my feet were killing me from the stupid high heeled sandals I had been forced to wear, and I was in an absolutely foul mood. The door to my room slammed hard behind me and I wasted no time kicking the offending footwear off into a corner with a curse that would make a sailor blush. Struggling with the zipper at the back of the dress I almost wished Dean was there to help me out, which made me blush, which in turn made me angry enough to manage on my own. A little proud of myself, I left the dress in a pile on the bathroom floor while I slipped on my most comfortable pair of yoga pants and my favorite t-shirt. Just as I finished washing the make-up off, remembering once again why I loathed the stuff, there was a knock at my door.

Gun in hand, I peeked through the curtains rather than the peephole. No need to give a potential monster a better target than necessary. There was Dean, two pizza boxes in one hand, a six-pack in the other, and a big stupid grin on his face. I felt the scowl settle on my own face as I threw the door open and pointed my gun at him. 

“What?!”

The sight of his face falling was comical, but I was in too bad a mood to even crack a smile. If I was honest with myself, part of my bad mood was because of the way Dean had reacted to seeing me in that stupid outfit. He saw me every day, and he had never looked at me like that before, so why should he get to when I was all dressed up like cocktail party Barbie? It just felt wrong, and I was not ready to admit to myself just why that was.

“Uhm, well, I…,” Dean stammered, holding out the pizza and beer in front of him, almost as if he thought he needed protection. “I thought maybe you’d want to relax after the whole…,” he shrugged, “you know. But if you don’t want to, I’m sure Sam’ll help me finish these off.”

Stepping away from the door, I put the safety on the gun and dropped it on top of my open duffel bag at the foot of the bed. Dean took my not slamming the door in his face as an invitation and came inside, shutting the door with his foot. He put the pizza and beer down on the small table next to the TV and shrugged out of his jacket, leaving it over the back of one of the two chairs. When he looked up, his expression was uncertain and some of my irritation melted away. I slid onto the bed and grabbed the TV remote, then patted the bed next to me. 

“C’mon. Bring that stuff,” I gestured at the pizza and beer, “there’s a Dr. Sexy M.D. marathon on until after midnight.”

Almost warily, Dean brought the pizza over, then went back for the beer, before sliding onto the bed, keeping to the far side. The pizza boxes fit nicely in between the two of us and before long we had fallen into a comfortable silence, enjoying the food and the mindless images on the TV.

When I looked over at Dean next, his head was tilted back, leaning against the bed’s headboard, his mouth slightly open and his eyes closed. He had fallen asleep. It brought a soft smile to my lips. I carefully plucked the half-drunk beer from his hand to avoid him spilling it all over the bed, and pulled the blanket up over his legs. Setting the pizza boxes on the floor, I turned the light off and snuggled one of my pillows. 

I fell asleep to the sound of Dean’s slow steady breathing, feeling completely safe.


End file.
